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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27641524">this too shall pass.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/motheyes/pseuds/motheyes'>motheyes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i wish this was canon (fix it fics) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(post 16th of nov), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gen, Post-Canon, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, canon shit, final pam voice i take the hammer and i fix the canon, i don't really know how to tag this, major character deaths are wilbur and schlatt, she/her pronouns for eret, your whole country getting blown up is a bit angsty yk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:12:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,298</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27641524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/motheyes/pseuds/motheyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a crater where a country once was, and there’s two gravestones where good men once stood.</p><p>Tubbo learns how to say goodbye.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i wish this was canon (fix it fics) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>this too shall pass.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>disclaimer: this is about the characters from the roleplay on the smp, not about the actual people!! if i learn this violates boundaries it's getting yeeted.</p><p>secondary disclaimer: i started this fic, like, immediately after the events of the 16th, and truth be told, i haven't watched a single stream since then. this does not follow the plot of dream smp season two whatsoever.</p><p>fic title is from danny schmidt's this too shall pass. that song is on this playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5zxTwK2d8XlmRyWpbDCeBA</p><p>(speaking of, my last playlist (the companion one to apotheosis) almost has 350 likes??? wtf???? thank you all for validating my music taste&lt;3)</p><p>i hope you enjoy my little word vomit :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The birds chirp in the crisp morning air. Dew rests on the grass, undisturbed except for light breezes and tiny bugs. The sun is low in the bright blue sky, casting long, long shadows of trees and buildings over the ground.</p><p>Smoke has stopped rising from the crater that was once L’Manburg.</p><p>The grass crunches behind Tubbo. He lifts his head from where it's been propped up on his knees since he sat down out here hours ago. The sun, when he looks behind him, is warm on his cheeks and bright in his eyes, and he has to squint to make out the identity of the silhouette looming over him.</p><p>It's Tommy, still dressed in his dirty, ashen clothes from the day before. Tubbo supposes that makes two of them.</p><p>"Hey," Tubbo says.</p><p>"Hey," Tommy says back.</p><p>Tubbo unfurls his body, stretching his knees out in front of him and patting the ground next to him. "Sit with me."</p><p>Mechanically, Tommy does so, not saying a single word. Tubbo turns his gaze back down the cliff they're sat at the top of.</p><p>He sneaks a sideways glance at Tommy. There are deep bags smeared under his eyes and a kind of weight to his limbs that's never been there before. His friend looks... <em> tired</em>.</p><p>It's awfully quiet for a moment, before a nearby bird sings out a particularly shrill note.</p><p>"This is... quite a sight." Tommy's voice sounds dead.</p><p>Tubbo blinks. "...Yeah."</p><p>Truth be told, he doesn't know what else to say. Tommy's usually the one bringing energy to everything, and Tubbo's usually just along for the ride.</p><p>He supposes things are changing, though.</p><hr/><p>Niki's bakery had just barely managed to escape the blast radius. Tubbo finds that out when he pokes his head through the door just in time to see her shutting the oven door, a pan in hand and the smell of fresh bread in the air.</p><p>It's such a comfortably familiar sight.</p><p>"Hello," he calls out, and she straightens up.</p><p>"Tubbo!" She calls back. "Just one second." The pan goes next to a couple others on top of the stove to cool, and Niki's mitts get tossed on the counter.</p><p>"What brings you here?" she asks, and Tubbo slides onto a chair by the table in the center of the kitchen.</p><p>"Nothing much," he shrugs. "Just wanted to say hello."</p><p>"Well, hello then," she says, a slight smile on her face as she leans back against the counter. "This'll be cool enough to eat in an hour or two, if you want to stick around."</p><p>"That sounds lovely."</p><p>They chatter aimlessly for a bit. Neither of them mention L'Manburg. Neither of them mention Wilbur. It's exactly what Tubbo needs, he thinks. </p><p>Of course, though, it's only inevitable that Niki eventually asks, "How's Tommy been?"</p><p>Tubbo pauses, the bread halfway to his mouth. He lowers it back down to the table.</p><p>"He... I don't think he's been coping very well."</p><p>Niki frowns worriedly, but she gives him a second to collect his thoughts before he keeps speaking.</p><p>"L'Manburg was his everything. Without it, I don't know if he knows what to do with himself." He looks down at the table, scuffing the tip of his shoes against the ground. His voice goes quiet. "And... you know. He was his brother.”</p><p>The bakery is silent for a moment. Tubbo heaves a breath. It sounds awfully close to a sob. </p><p>"Anyway." He chokes out a laugh. "Tommy's been talking about rebuilding. Maybe that'll be good for him. I don't know."</p><p>He looks back up to see Niki sitting down opposite him, pushing a glass of water and another piece of bread in his direction.</p><p>Tubbo blinks the water out of his eyes and nibbles on the bread just a bit. It's good, soft and fluffy, and it warms his chest just a bit.</p><p>"You think rebuilding is a good idea?" Niki asks, after she's given Tubbo a minute to compose himself again. He sighs, and mentally thanks her for going along with the subject change.</p><p>"Tommy wants to," is the only response he can muster.</p><p>“What do <em> you </em> want, though?"</p><p>Tubbo blinks. “I don’t know,” he says.</p><hr/><p>Any good President’s opinion is informed by their people. Tubbo knows this well, has heard Wilbur’s criticisms of Schlatt (and vice versa) time and time again. So, he seeks out his people.</p><p>Eret, when Tubbo finds her, is rummaging through the chests just outside her castle walls, dropping select items into a couple bulky bags at her feet.</p><p>"Woah, what's going on?" Tubbo asks.</p><p>"Hey, Tubbo," she says, absentmindedly. A diamond pickaxe goes in the bag; a bunch of spider eyes do not. "I'm moving out! Dream officially revoked my kingship the day of the war." </p><p>Tubbo winces. "I'm sorry."</p><p>"Don't be." Eret pauses, tossing aside a few stray pieces of cobblestone. "It took me a long time to realize this," she muses, "but my kingdom was nothing without any citizens. Was just an empty title and a pile of gold, really. Sincerely, I hope George has fun with it."</p><p>She struggles for a second to clasp the bags shut, before standing up straight. She hefts one of them onto her back as she looks up at the castle walls towering above the two of them.</p><p>"I don't think I'll miss it."</p><p>There's a beat, and then Tubbo nods, and holds out a hand.</p><p>"D'you want me to carry one of those?"</p><p>Eret smiles down at him. "That would be much appreciated."</p><hr/><p>Fundy’s sitting around the back of his base and watching the sunset when Tubbo comes across him.</p><p>“What’s up?” Tubbo asks. Fundy looks up at him for a second, and then back at the sky.</p><p>“Nothing,” he says, like it’s a novel concept.</p><p>“Mind if I join?”</p><p>“Not at all.”</p><p>Tubbo sits, leaning against the stone wall behind them. </p><p>He takes a breath. “If we were going to rebuild-”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“You didn’t even let me finish!”</p><p>Fundy shrugs. “Didn’t need to. I’m not interested. Wilbur - Dad - he built L’Manburg. And look where that’s gotten us all. I was born there,” he says. “It’s all I’ve ever known. And, I’m tired of it.”</p><p>Tubbo blinks up at him. “But you put so much work into it.”</p><p>Fundy sighs. “Exactly.”</p><p>He doesn’t have to say any more; Tubbo thinks he’s spent long enough staring out over the ruins of his nation to understand. How many times can you pour your heart and soul into something before you run out of emotion to give? How many times can you have that something taken away from you before you realize you’re on the wrong path?</p><p>The sky is beautiful - the sun leaks thick, strong colors, and streaks of red and orange and yellow paint the clouds in a thousand different shades. Tubbo and Fundy watch it set together.</p><hr/><p>“I have a question for you, Big Q.”</p><p>“Go ahead and shoot, Twobo! Big T! Little-”</p><p>Tubbo cuts him off before he can continue.</p><p>“Why’d you join up with Schlatt?”</p><p>Quackity blinks, and takes a second to think, humming and tapping his chin. “I just wanted to make things better,” he admits, laughing slightly. “That’s such a shit answer. It’s true though.”</p><p>He flips his hair over his shoulder as he keeps talking.</p><p>“Schlatt vowed that he’d do that. That he’d tear down the walls.” Quackity sighs. “Those things were gorgeous, but they were so restrictive. I - I don’t know. Maybe it was all just fast-paced lies, but he promised some beautiful shit at first. Brotherhood of mankind, and all that.” The smile on his face is wistful and bittersweet, tinged with the memory of all that happened after the election.</p><p>Faintly, Tubbo nods. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I was never in on his campaign, but before he actually took over, I honestly didn’t think it would be that bad if we lost to him.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Quackity echoes. His eyes shutter as he looks in the direction of where the podium used to be. “It’s just… a shame that it turned out like this, huh.”</p><p>“It’s not your fault,” Tubbo pipes up. “You couldn’t have known. Besides, it’s done now. We just have to make sure that another Schlatt doesn’t happen.”</p><p>Quackity huffs. “Thanks, Twobo.” He sounds just a bit cheerier. Tubbo counts that as a win.</p><hr/><p>Tubbo, contrary to what everyone else thinks is proper, doesn’t hate Technoblade whatsoever.</p><p>He knows Tommy has problems with him, some of them (most of them) on Tubbo’s behalf. Tubbo himself, though… he doesn’t think he ever even had to forgive Techno. Tommy’d been horrified, when Tubbo woke up with scars scattered across his right arm and the side of his face, but it barely took Tubbo a week to accept them as another fact of life. </p><p>The sky is blue, the grass is green, and the vision in Tubbo’s right eye will never be the same.</p><p>With the way Techno acts, it seems like he feels the same way.</p><p>Techno’d taken over the ravine, after everything had settled. That claim went undisputed; almost nobody else was willing to even step foot inside. So, Pogtopia’s remains are left to Techno and Techno alone.</p><p>Tubbo clatters his way down the staircase to Pogtopia in his usual clumsy fashion, and Techno shouts a vague greeting from the potato farm, just where Tubbo thought he’d be.</p><p>Maybe there should be a traumatic memory around every corner of this tall, dark ravine. It feels different, now, though. Techno’s coat and crown are perpetually slung over the spare chests outside the potato farm. The sharp tang of gunpowder has been replaced with the earthy smell of baked potatoes and freshly turned earth. There’s no more air of desperation.</p><p>Tubbo is more than content to sit quietly and watch Techno farm, when he needs to get away from it all. Techno is more than content to let him. It works out. There’s no need for words or politics or conflict.</p><p>Tommy called him soft for immediately forgiving Techno. It was a joke. Tubbo disagrees anyway. </p><p>Sometimes, letting go is stronger than holding on.</p><hr/><p>The gravesite isn’t much; it’s just an old, battle-weathered tree planted firmly the soft earth. It overlooks the river that used to be the border between the SMP and L’Manburg; were the Prime Path still whole and in one piece, were its remnants not scattered across the banks of the water, it would be right at the bottom of the tall oak staircase.</p><p>Tubbo’s only been to visit it once before, when the soil was still recently-dug, when he had to drag Tommy away to force him to get some rest. Well, he’s only been to visit it once before now, that is. He thinks (or, well, hopes) that it’ll do him some good.</p><p>It turns out that Phil’s already at its foot when Tubbo gets there. He’s sitting cross-legged, wings folded neatly, hands on his knees, striped bucket hat laying on the ground next to him.</p><p>Tubbo stalls in his tracks when he sees him, internally debating whether he should quietly leave. The decision is taken out of his hands, though; just as he’s just about to take his first step away, Phil turns to look at him.</p><p>“Hello.” His voice is dull.</p><p>“Sorry,” Tubbo says reflexively. “I don’t mean to intrude.”</p><p>Phil’s quiet for a second, looking Tubbo up and down. “...It’s fine,” he says, eventually, gesturing next to him. “You’re not intruding.”</p><p>Hesitantly, as if his footsteps alone will disturb the fragile peace that blankets the riverside, Tubbo approaches the grave. The branches of L’Mantree rustle in the wind.</p><p>They stay like that, for a bit, and the rushing of the water and the whistling of the wind are the only sounds.</p><p>Tubbo glances down at Phil. He’s sitting in the long shadow cast by the setting sun and the tall trunk of the tree.</p><p>Truth be told, he doesn’t know a lot about Phil; all he’s heard is second-hand stories from Tommy and Techno and Wilbur, back when Pogtopia was still just a ravine, back when L’Manburg still had its walls. </p><p>He’s heard about the time that Phil saved a bird from a spider, setting its broken wing with deft hands and nursing it back to health. He remembers the way Tommy told him, a soft smile on his face, that Mellohi reminded him of his dad. </p><p>But, he’s also seen a blood-stained sword through Wilbur’s stomach and blisters on Tommy’s fingers from digging for hours on end.</p><p>Bit of a mixed bag, really.</p><p>Beside him, Phil sighs, and Tubbo sneaks another look. Phil must notice this one, because he looks back, and Tubbo snatches his gaze away like it’s been scalded.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Phil says. “I’m just… thinking.”</p><p>“What about?” </p><p>Tubbo regrets the words the instant they pass his lips. Phil’s silent for a very long moment. That silence isn’t broken until Tubbo starts to worry that he’s fucked up and now Phil hates him.</p><p>Then, Phil speaks.</p><p>“...I wish I’d gotten here quicker,” he admits, voice so soft that Tubbo has to strain to hear it. “He’s my son, my responsibility. I should’ve been here to stop him. If I’d just been here sooner…” </p><p>He trails off, his hands gripping his knees. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>(Tubbo knows the apology isn’t just for him.)</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, man,” he says anyway, words quiet, and he finds that he means it. The burns on his arms have healed; his singed hair will grow back. And, when he wakes up sweating at night, one of the last people he’d blame is Phil. He can’t speak for anyone else, but he harbors no ill will.</p><p>(Even as Wilbur took his final breaths, Phil’s wings came up to shield him from sight, giving him just a bit of privacy. Even now, Phil’s hands are bandaged in much the same way as Tommy’s.)</p><p>Phil looks up at him, the start of a watery smile on his face. “Thanks, kid,” he says.</p><p>Things aren’t okay, not by a long shot. Phil’s penitence and Tubbo’s forgiveness can’t make it okay. </p><p>But, it’s a start. It’s a step forward. </p><p>And, Tubbo thinks Phil’s alright.</p><hr/><p>There’s one more person Tubbo wants to visit.</p><p>"Hey," he says, squatting down to be on the same level as the small pile of rocks stacked on the ground.</p><p>It doesn't answer. Of course it doesn't; Tubbo doesn't know what he was expecting.</p><p>He heaves a sigh, rubbing his thumb against his opposite palm, and he casts his eyes around.</p><p>The pile of stones sits where the White House used to be. It overlooks the giant, gaping hole in the SMP that used to be L'Manburg.</p><p>Tubbo doesn't think anyone knows it's here, other than Quackity, of course; the little ceremony they held had been private. It wouldn't have felt right, to tell Tommy that they were commemorating the death of his greatest enemy.</p><p>(It would've felt worse to leave Schlatt's body lying broken under the rubble with no acknowledgement.)</p><p>Tubbo focuses back in on the small, makeshift gravestone. He takes a deep breath.</p><p>"I don't even know why I'm here," he admits, rubbing the palms of his hands across his face. "I should just be able to walk away, shouldn't I? And yet, I'm here, talking to you."</p><p>The stones are silent.</p><p>"Maybe Tommy's always been right. Maybe I am a bleeding heart." He laughs. It's not particularly happy.</p><p>Tubbo lapses back into silence, for a moment, and feels just a bit self-conscious about talking to a rock. More words well up in his throat, though, and he has to spit them out.</p><p>"I'm sorry you didn't die in battle. Well, I'm not sorry, I guess," he chokes out another chuckle, "but maybe you deserved more than what happened."</p><p>Tubbo sighs. "Maybe <em> I </em> deserved better." He blinks, and then bursts into speech again, waving his hands as he talks. "It should've been a fair duel! For the country! For everything!"</p><p>He punches the ground, chest heaving, tears welling up in his eyes. The sky is clear and blue and beautiful, he notes as he stares up at it, blinking away the water.</p><p>Schlatt's gravestones still don't say anything, remaining infuriatingly quiet.</p><p>Tubbo sighs, after a long, quiet moment. "Even now, you're the best listener I've ever talked to." A lopsided grin half-crawls its way onto his face, before falling back off it. "So, thanks, I guess."</p><p>He stands in one fluid motion, stretching his knees and back out after being crouched down for so long. </p><p>"Goodbye, Schlatt."</p><p>He doesn't look back as he leaves, this time.</p><hr/><p>“I don’t know if this is a good idea.”</p><p>Tommy looks up from his half-conceived blueprints, one eyebrow raised. “You don’t think what’s a good idea?”</p><p>They’re in the embassy. Sketches and plans and schematics dot the walls and plaster the floors, covered in Tommy’s best attempt at recreating old blown-up buildings from memory.</p><p>Tubbo gestures at all of it. “Y’know.”</p><p>“No?” Tommy barks out a laugh.</p><p>“Uh, y’know,” Tubbo says again, waving his hands as he waits for his words to come to him. “Rebuilding. I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”</p><p>Tommy squints at him. “You alright there, man?” he asks, voice incredulous. “Of course we’re gonna rebuild L’Manburg.”</p><p>“I’m serious!”</p><p>“But - you’re the <em> President,</em>” Tommy blusters. “Shouldn’t you be the one who wants it back most of all?”</p><p>“That’s just the thing!” Tubbo exclaims, and suddenly, all the pieces of his thoughts click into coherent sentences. “I’m not really a president, am I? I was appointed by you and Wilbur, and even then, I was the second choice. I’m not fit for the job.”</p><p>Tommy pulls a face and makes a so-so motion with his hands. Tubbo presses on. For once, he’s not going to let Tommy get a word in edgewise.</p><p>“Schlatt was elected, but look at what he did to the nation! And, Wilbur was just president by default, really.” Tubbo pulls himself up, standing tall. “I’m not fit for the job. But nobody else was, either. So why have the job at all?”</p><p>He lets his words hang there in the air; he watches as Tommy processes them.</p><p>“Well, it’s not that easy, is it?” Tommy asks. His hands shake just the slightest bit. “We need <em> something </em>.”</p><p>“No! We really don’t!” Tubbo can feel a half-grin creeping onto his face. “Techno was right!”</p><p>Tommy flinches back, and Tubbo can see the moment of betrayal flicker across his face. He hurries to clarify.</p><p>“We made L’Manburg out of love, right?” he asks. “We made it so that nobody would have to fight like we did for our freedom. But look where that got us! It got you and Techno and Wilbur on the run. It got me and Fundy undercover. It got Niki practically unable to leave her bakery.”</p><p>As he talks, Tubbo’s hands shake too, but it’s from the adrenaline of a point well made.</p><p>“So, no, I don’t think we should rebuild L’Manburg.”</p><p>Tommy sighs. “I…” He trails off, turning around to stare up at the sky and grabbing his hair with both his hands. “Fuck! You’re right.”</p><p>“I am!”</p><p>“Don’t sound so happy about it, you smug bastard,” Tommy snaps, but there’s no real bite to it. Tubbo laughs.</p><hr/><p>The birds sing in the crisp morning air. Slowly, the world wakes up to their song, and it’s greeted by the gentle rise of the sun. </p><p>There’s a crater where a country once was, and there’s two gravestones where good men once stood.</p><p>Things won’t ever be the same again. Not without Wilbur, or Schlatt, or L’Manburg, but that’s okay. What’s left is kindness, even in the face of death.</p><p>L’Manburg is left alone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WOAH okay man.</p><p>this was a ride to write. it has made me feel Many Things. i hope it has made you feel many things too.</p><p>i just wanted a concrete ending for these lads. i am excited to see where season two is going but honestly i just wanted. a satisfying ending to it all. techno is so right when he says that they caused the problem that schlatt exemplified. so my gay little anarchist ass sat down and pumped this out real quick. i hope the ending is satisfying to yall too.</p><p>(oh just a note: i promise, i swear to god, i will update my au soon. things have just gotten in the way. but, ay, i'm american, i get thanksgiving break (aka: more time to write).)</p><p>ANYWAY that's enough rambling from me. please kudos/comment if you enjoyed this !!! its not necessary but it helps me so much to see feedback.</p><p>i hope you have a lovely day, reader. stan you for clear skin &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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